


The Drunken Ramblings of a Tiny Mage Cat

by calumTraveler



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, ESO Elsweyr Spoilers, Gen, Sobering up, Vague Spoilers, also mentions of the Psijic questline in Summerset, but spoilers never the less, drunk kitty is drunk, its an intervention, second person narrative, the heavy drinking is less subtext and more actual text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calumTraveler/pseuds/calumTraveler
Summary: Still, the point remains, somehow you've garnered the sympathy of a Psijic Mage who seems to be experienced with saving the world. Now what do you do?





	1. The Wakeup Call.

"Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have let you alone." A voice pierces through the haze, rudely interrupting your near slumber.  
  
Huh? What? 

"You've definitely had enough." That voice says more and despite the fact you're slugging open your one good eye, you can't really see cause you're... well. You're flat out drunk and your vision is a bloody mess of- wait. No. Isn't that leather?

Don't tell you you put your eyepatch on over the wrong eye.

Wait. Who are you again?

You are you but you don't really remember who the heck you even are.

Your head buzzes with the sweet, sweet haze of alcohol and dis... dis... the thing that makes you feel like you're not connected to your body. Dysphoria? No. Right but wrong. Dys... Dis....

"C'mere, you drunk little kitty."

And then you're abruptly lifted up from the ground and you struggle in the warm arms of a stranger who doesn't smell strange. 

"Nooo... Lemme goooo..." you can't really put much up of a fight. You are flat out and out too drunk to even really-

The eyepatch is shifted away and you wince at the pain of solid light. Ah. yep. Yeah. You definitely did put your eyepatch over your non blinded eye so you could sleep through the sunlight hours.

...Ugh... Why were you drinking again? 

To Forget, Right. But now that's seriously biting you in the tail.

Tail.

WAIT. YOU HAVE A TAIL!

RIGHT!

You feel it all swishy, lethargic, but it's swishy never the lessss!

You're a Cat! How did you forget that? You struggle a bit as your limbs seem to snap into focus a bit fighting against the dis... dys... 

"Mrrrr what's the word again??" you groan. 

"C'mon, Sereyne," The woman holding you has no fur on her face, but whiskers painted on her cheeks regardless. Her eyes are filled golden light and- eh? What's that emotion again?

Concern? Sorrow? One of those. Uh...

You still can barely move your body. Maybe you really did drink way too much.

And. Wait. Yes. The name they said.

Sere... Sereyne? Yes. That's your name.

You are SEREYNE. And you are so VERY. VERY. DRUNK.

Who's this girl though? Human, but... smells like a wolf. Breton? Were it the Bretons that smelled like dogs or were it Nords? You can't remember and you honestly really don't care to remember.

"You know, when I gave you that gold I was seriously expecting you to get out of town," whoever the lady is says, carrying you away from your nesting spot.

Help! Help! Someone help! You're being cat-napped!

ARGH! Those lazy layabouts and drunkards! They're just smiling and shaking their heads and letting you go! GAH! Don't they know who you are! You're SEREYNE!

You're the-! The---

The Stupidly Drunken can't who can't even remember what the word for that weird disembodied feeling is. 

Girl smells familiar though. "I know you from somewhere?" you slur out.

"Yes, and like I told you the last time I saw you, we worked a job together. I gave you your cut."

Cut? Cut?

OH!

"Threeeehunren and seveny fish," you mumble.

"Something like that, yes," your cat-napper says, carrying you across a bridge. Her hair blows about her as golden as the desert sands which- urgh- you wrench your eye shut as the sunlight glares into it.

Completely unrelated train of thought there. Bluhhhhh.

"Wh're yuu takin' meeee?" You demand, lightly trying to bat a paw up against her chin. You miss entirely and somehow slap yourself in your own chin. 

OW.

"To sober up, Sereyne. I'd splash you with water but the last time I did that you didn't like it much." Hrmf. That sounds familiar. Vaguely. 

Truth be told you think you've been splashed awake with unknown fluids a bunch of times. Too many times to even count.

You're walked up to a friggin beast of a Khajiit- a sen... sench... senchal... wiched? 

The Big Riddle-able Kitties. No. Wait. Um. Ride-able? Not Riddle-thar-able... What are you even saying right now?

"Oh dear," they rumble. "This your friend?"

"Yes, and she's very drunk," and then your mysterious savior dumps you in a side satchel, and has the gall to strap you in.

"Raaaah lemme goooo or I'll-! I'll----..." UrPh...

You can't really do much of anything right now because you really can't even focus-

Focus.

 _ **"MY FOCUS!"**_ you snap awake "Someone stole my focus! Or- Or I traded it for cash or-?"

"Yes, you did exactly that. Again," and then savior dangles your focus in front of your face. "And you'll only be getting it back once I'm sure you're not going to be drinking yourself into a stupor again. And if you ARE going to keep drinking, you're at least going to be doing it where I can keep an eye on you."

"Oh, okay," you feel incredibly relieved to see your focus intact and in one piece even if it's being shoved into a magical pocket of nothingness. "That's good..."

"Glad to hear it," and then she climbs up on the Big Talking Rider Cat Thingggg...  
  
_"Pahararawalkhahramara?"_

...What did you even just say?

"You are so drunk it's not even funny, Sereyne."

"I resemble that remark!" you protest. "Wait. Resemble? No, not that word. Um... Re... Re...."

"Resent?" the Senthay... Parharm... Toejamey.... ARUGH. THE TALKY MOUNT KITTY offers the right word.

"Yes! That!" you agree, and then soon you're barely aware of the up and down motion of the Talky Mounty Catty thing moving along at speed.

You still feel all... all. Dis... dis...

Oh.

Wait.

No.

DEPERSONALIZATION or DEREALIZATION.

That's it. One of those two words.

You feel all depersonalized and all kinda... not real?

Rahjin, how much did you Drink!?

Way too much. Way way way too much.

You proceed to be lulled to sleep by the rocking motion.

* * *

When you come to again it's night time and you're lying indoors on a giaaaaaaaaaaaant flat bed thing.

Your head hurts. It hurts so damn much. 

Yeah. You're hung over.

Ow.

You pick yourself up and sway slightly on your- "WOAAAH!" Whump! 

You couldn't even get to your feet and fell face first into the soft, plushy fabric.

BLUH. 

You lay like that for a few moments until-

"About time you're awake," and then you're rolled over so you're not suffocating yourself, aaaaaand then picked the hell up off of the bed.

"Whuhappened?" you ask.

"You drunk yourself into such a bad stupor that you astral projected yourself infront of me when I happened to be going to the Stitches to deal with some diplomatic business," your savior says- the very familiar woman who you just can't remember the name of.

"I did what now?" You ask in turn. "Doesn't sound like me, contacting strangers..."  
  
"'Cause we're not," woman says. "You'll remember later, and I'm not going to explain it again before we get some liquid in you and hydrated." 

"Fffffiiiiineeeee..." you huff, and then your saviour opens a door and you're hit with the sweet scent of cool river air, and a view of a city over a wall.

Waiiiit. You know that city.

Wall. Wall... Rall.... 

"Rawl'kha?" you stare. "How long was I out?"

"A solid day," Your... friend? Answers as she walks onto a wooden deck and then down some stairs to a lower level. "I was pretty woried after you passed out. I've been doing my best to keep you alive with some healing spells until you recovered."

"Well ain't that a used litter box," you lament as you squint at the kitchen area set up beneath the house.

It's bright. Super bright. Four major bright fire sources that just make you close your eye tight because DAMN IS IT BRIGHT.

"Sit here, I'll get you some water and turn down the lights," your interventionist friend says, laying you down on a blank counter space and then going around snuffing lights.

This all sucks royally.

 _"Soooo. She picked up another cat, Eh?"_ A voice echoes through the air, and you cover your ears because it's not you that jerkish voice is talking about- right? _"Ah, yeah, I'm talkin' to you, mate!"_

"Augur! Leave her alone."

_"Oh come on! If'n'when we're getting a new roommate I'd like to atleast meet them!"_

You look around, and then spot the oddest thing.

A blue crystal skull sits atop a bar stool, and despite it being turned away from you, you swear it's non existant eyes are gazing at you.

 _"Yes! Hello! That's me! Augur of the Obscure here! Ain't you a fancy cat, able to sense me lookin' at you? Oh, right, you've had magic trainin' haven't ya?"_ The skull, impossibly, speaks.

"I'm so hungover it's not even funny," you lament.

_"Ah, no, sorry, I'm totally real. Tell her, Mate!"_

"Yes, he's real," And then your savior puts down two bowls- one filled with water one filled with milk. You immediately go to town downing as much water as you can to counter the hangover dehydration. "Picked him up as part of a thing I did with the Psijics a while back. And he stuck around."

 _"Like a bad rash! Wait, no, what's a good version of a bad rash? A tattoo?"_ The skull is thusly ignored.

You nearly choke at that and sputter for a moment, turning to look at your friend- "The Psijics!? You've worked with the Psijics!?"

"Yeeeah, something like that," she scratches at her nose. 

Oh.

OH.

"Well," you swallow, staring at her for a few moments before the heavenly scent of milk draws your attention back to it. You drink it down as you consider the implications of that statement.

Your friend isn't even just an Acquaintance of the Psijics... SHE IS A MOONS DAMNED PSIJIC!

How. How crazy is that. A Psijic is here taking care of a lazy drunk like you who couldn't even cut it in the Mages Guild.

"Hey," And then she puts her hand on your back, you freeze. Don't Pet, Don't Pet, Don't Pet....  Please don't pet. She doesn't pet. She's just holding it there and keeping you steady and- you didn't realize you were shaking or swaying or- "It's going to be okay, Sereyne. Just take it steady."

You... you're so not used to any of this care that you're being shown.

You focus on drinking the milk as best as you can, and once done, you shakily focus on your breathing. 

**"Why,"** you ask. "Why do you care?"

 _"Because she has a chronic syndrome called 'being a hero' that makes her want to help just about everyone she meets,"_ The skull remarks.

"Shoosh, you, or I'll leave you in Glenumbra." your friend counters. "I care because I'm seeing someone who needs a friend, and someone who needs help. And you are someone who deseperately needs both."

Friend. You keep saying that but you can't... can't even remember her name.

"I don't have friends," you meekly protest. "I got rid of them all."

"You haven't gotten rid of me," she says.

 _"Or me! Though this is the first time we've met. So hi, new friend!"_ The skull happily chimes in. You and she both ignore it.

"I don't even know your name," you admit. "I think I didn't even bother memorizing it to begin with. I don't..." You don't deserve friendship.

"Most people don't seem to remember my name anyways, so that's not a problem," she says, smiling sadly.

"What?" You ask, shocked. "That's rude of them!"

"They just call me by this title or that title, 'walker' or 'five claws' or 'Vestige', or even just 'my friend,'" she shakes her head. "I'm used to it."

To prove her point, she says her name, and it... kind of washes over your ears like a whispered secret on the wind.

But despite that, it clicks back into place. Sort of. The... The last job you did, she did the heavy lifting and recruited everyyyyyone? Whoever everyone was. You were honestly so drunk you didn't remember much of anything of it.

You think.

"Sounds like something I could drink to," you say in response.

"Yeah, you're not getting any alcohol for atleast a week," she declares. 

"Aw come on, what are friends for??" you ask.

"Sobering you up and making sure you're in good health before I ever consider letting you near another bottle." She answers.

 _"Chronic. Heroing. Syndrome."_ The Skull interjects.

"The talkative relic has a point. Don't you have important heroing things to be doing?" you ask. "I seem to recall something about Dragons being on the loose. But I think that might've just been a drunken daydream."

You say it as a joke, almost expecting them to deny it. And yet...

"No, the dragons are a problem still, but there's work being done without me," she says. "They'll send a messenger when they need me, I'm sure."

"Rrrr... Fair enough, I suppose." 

"And besides, I had an encounter with some spirits recently... One of them said, 'Every soul of the Ja-Kha'jay is sacred.' And sure I think they meant it in context of an ancient Lich coming back to destroy everyone, but... the sentiment sticks, doesn't it?"

You stare at her- the Vestige, the Hero unknown, and you stare and you stare and you stare and--

"What." You stare. _" **What Lich??"**_

"A Dead One," She smiles. 

...You come to the startling revelation that you've inadvertently drawn the attention of a very... VERY... powerful person. 

Despite the fear this should cause you don't feel as if this girl is really all that out of the ordinary. Maybe a bit... lonely, even?

It's then you spy a very curved weapon at her waist.

It's an axe, a very fancy axe, but it strikes you as... enchanted somehow.

It gleams with the light of the moons, and your magical senses feel.. feel...

Oddly at peace.

You finally just ask, "So... what happens if once I'm sober I don't want to stay sober?"

"Then I guess that's up to you. But I'm NOT letting you ever drink alone or to that excess again. Got it?" She makes that perfectly clear.

"Fine," you say. "That half-watered down swill was foul tasting anyways. I'm sure you'd have Tons better wine in stock than they did."

"Sereyne," your friend says your name in a warning tone and you roll your eye at it. The skull coughs something about a mother cat, both of you ignore it.

"Fiiine, fine. I'll let it drop. Now could I have some more milk or water? All this talking's got my throat parched."

She places down another bowl of water- funny, when did she prepare that?

No, you know better than to ask. If she's a Psijic then of course she'd know how to discretely fill a bowl of water. You set to lapping it up.

Hero types. That'll pay you to not pay attention when names are going around.

...What kind of job did you even pull OFF with her that had you drinking so much as to forget it all? You're honestly kind of disappointed in yourself for not remembering. 

Unless things went south, in which case who cares about the past! You've got a friend, and... wait.

"One question," you look up at her, and fix a gauging eye at her. It's your only eye but it'll do. 

"Sure, what?" She answers.

"Do I get to stay here free of charge during my enforced sobriety or do I have to pay rent?"

That gets her to laugh, and for a few moments, you're able to forget you're sitting on the kitchen counter of a Psijic Mage with a talking skull that probably got made out of the last person to piss her off. 

Probably.

You don't actually know much about anything how crystal skulls can talk. So who knows, maybe it's just some other worldly math demon peering in through the veil from the Nth dimension of who knows what corner of Oblivion. 

That certainly wouldn't be the weirdest thing imaginable, would it?

Still, the point remains, somehow you've garnered the sympathy of a Psijic Mage who seems to be experienced with saving the world. Now what do you do?


	2. Apologies and Apprentices.

You are Sereyne, and it's about two or three days into your newly enforced sobriety thanks in part to your new friend that she says the following.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop Tasnasi."  
  
"Eh?" You ask, glancing up at her. "What do you mean by that?"

"I had a chance to stop her from killing that bastard and instead I let her go through with it. I let her get her easy revenge and I..." She shakes her head. "I let a bit too much sour vengeance get to me. I've dealt with enough people that I've had to just kill and it's worked out that... sometimes it's hard to remember how to be merciful."

You're not sure what to make of that, sitting out on this metal deck that she'd built out and around the back side of the house, peering out over the wall of the Sleek Creek Estate over into the river beyond.

You're sitting on a tea table, she's sitting on a bench, you're both just staring out, watching the water course by.

"I barely even remember what happened that mission. So what, do you want me to forgive you or something?" You ask. "It's not like things would have been any better if you had stopped her. I'm sure the Stitches would've torn itself apart either way- someone would've forced me to be sober again. You or Tasnasi, doesn't matter."

"But it could have been different," she says. "I can just... tell. There's something good that could have come out of me stopping her from killing him and I screwed it up."

"What's done is done," you say. "'S'not like you can't just magic up a portal through time and change your mind. Choice's been made already."

"But I still feel like I made the wrong choice there," she laments, peering out over the walls. "I've done so much and I always feel bad when I realize I've done the wrong thing. The worst part about being trained by the Psijics is that I have all these powers over time, but none of them capable of reversing it for long enough to get me back far enough to undo those choices."

"Learn from 'em, don't repeat 'em," you say. "Nothin' else you can do, I suppose. Now if I could only remember what it was I'd forgotten, maybe I'd learn better. But I'd have really rather just forgotten plain and simple so I didn't bother remembering. Maybe I'm not one who should talk here, eh?"

You swish your tail a few times just for the effort. Your limbs are slowly coming back into alignment with your mind and you're not swaying quite nearly as badly as you were before.

"Still," she ventures, "if I could go back and undo it, and Tasnasi got the Stitches in order... wouldn't you like that instead? To have stayed at that home instead?"

"Maybe," you say, "but maybe as soon as I remembered whatever it was I was forgetting I'd skip town. Tasnasi would have that uh... that brute's mess to clean up. Khasoda I think? Well, she wouldn't need mine too."

"I'm still sorry I screwed it up for you," she apologizes again. 

"Nothing much you'd screwed up," you say back. "I screwed up just as bad with the teleport spell. Wait- I screwed up bad with the teleport spell!" You curl up into yourself. "Oh that could have gone bad in so many ways. Your limbs could have wound up fused to a barrel and your barrel fused to a wall! Eeesh! Just made myself queeeeezy a little."

She laughs, a bit hollowly, but she puts a hand out and taps you on the head lightly. "Teleporting magic isn't exactly my field day either. I'd have done worse. Atleast you got us moved in one piece."

"But I almost didn't!" you say.

"Yeah, but you did," she says, sighing, crossing her arms over her chest, and gazing upwards at the cloudy sky. "I fucked up worse."

"Why's this hitting you so hard?" you ask. "If it were me, I'd have told her to kill him too. I think. Maybe. Blood might've made me queasy and sick again. Probably, actually. Still. You made the call that felt right at the time."

"But it didn't," she says. "Some small part of me told me I should make her stay, and get that jerk to confess... turn things around. And I didn't listen. My heart just closed off right then and there and... I screwed it up."

"So?" you ask. "Doesn't make a difference to me either way. Not right now at any rate. If you had done that, left me to my own devices there, there's no telling what I'd do after. I doubt either way I'd be leaving the Stitches, but who knows? Maybe I'd set off on my own. Who knows where I'd show up."

"I have run into some unexpected people at times," she remarks. "Guy I knew, Jakarn, just fell out of a window the other day. Hadn't seen him in ages, but there he was, dropping right in with some adventure like it hadn't been years. And then..." She closes her eyes. "I've got so many regrets. So many people who died that I couldn't save. So many that I've killed who might've otherwise gone on to do things. Where does it end? At what point do I stop being a Hero and start being a monster?"

An image flashes through your mind- of your friend gathering ominous energy in hand, sneaking up behind one of Kash..Kharnso... Khasoda's Lieutenants, and stabbing him through the back with a Daedric blade that vanished moments later.

"Eh, we've all got our vices," you say. "Still, maybe some are worse than most."

You get up and stretch your back upwards, working the kinks out. She says nothing. You glance once more at the river, and think for a moment.

You look at her again, and she says, "I don't know what I want out of any of this except to make things right."

"Get Vols to build a Time Machine," you joke. 

But she stares on ahead, and a glimmer twinkles in her eyes before she abruptly shuts them and shakes her head. "No, I can't resort to that."

You're tempted to ask what she means, but at the same time...

You get the feeling this is something far and beyond way out of your league.

She's a Psijic. She's saved the world from who knows how many disasters, a time-altering one isn't out of bounds of possibility.

Once again, you find yourself wonder what you're supposed to do about all of this, but, honestly, you realize that she doesn't even know what she wants herself.

"Whatever it is," you finally say. "I'm not gonna condemn you or forgive you. Way I see it, after a certain point, it's all water under the bridge, or flowing out into the desert, in this case."

"I suppose it is," she agrees.

* * *

 

Your friend heads out into Rawl'kha the next morning to get some food for the both of you, as well as the rather large abundance of pets that your friend has adopted over time, not just that, but the mounts.  
  
By Jone and Jode, the MOUNTS!

There's a small stable built outside the house's walls, having taken over what you suspect used to be a Bandit Camp, and there's atleast Ten different species of creature here- including two shiny, feathery, deer-looking things called INDRIKS. Native to Summerset- you're told.

Among them, apparently, is a Senche-Raht that's keeping everything in line- and you recognize her as the one who was there when your friend rescued you from yourself. 

"Ah, Zia sees you are finally venturing outside, little one," the Senche purrs. "As for you, Walker, today's groceries?"

Your friend goes over the list one last time to ensure that they both have everything covered, and then you just... walk into town with her. 

There's a brief stop under the Fighters Guild building for your friend to sell off a bag full of drinks and potions- where did she get those and what are they, you ask?

Apparently, not anything alcoholic, it seems. Your friend just happens to know a recipe that the Brewer is willing to pay good money for having the drink in stock.

...And you weren't allowed to come anywhere near the bar counter thanks to your currently enforced sobriety. Damn.

After that you walk across town to the Stables, and your friend retrieves several large crates on a wagon. 

"You want to ride back to the stable?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure, why not. Beats walking," you say, and allow yourself to be picked up and securely placed ontop of one of the crates. You hold on for dear life as your friend summons a large, spectral wolf with a whistling spell, hooks it up to the wagon, and hauls it all back across town to the local inn- pausing only to grab some paper writs off of a crafting board uncomfortably close to the Mages Guild building for your liking.

Your friend notices your discomfort, because once she parks infront of the inn, instead of heading in directly, asks you to guard the cargo, and zips off briefly towards the Mages Guild- and then past it to grab more paper writs off of another board, before returning, and heading into the Inn/Tavern.

You're left to guard the precious cargo, and muse upon your thoughts. This all seems so routine. So normal. So... busy! For a world saving hero, you mean. It's all so... Mundane. 

And then she returns with a medium sized sealed crate that she adds to the cart's cargo, and you head back to the stables and the house. 

Supplies are dropped off and stored, and your friend leaves you to sit on the counter and watch as she cycles through crafting stations, creating gear and requested materials according to the paper writs. Those done, she bundles them all up in an old food crate, and then takes out for the drop-off point just outside of the city.

You're once again brought along for the ride, and you watch as she hands off supplies, and receives crates in turn. There are others doing the same thing, but its done regardless. 

You have to wonder what's the point, and so ask, on the way back to the house, "What's the point of all that? It's just feeding the war effort."

"Sure," she shrugs, "but you'll have someone else feeding it if not me. And the way this war's going on repeat... I'd rather feed it with armor that'll keep people alive rather than have them dead. The less bodies out on that field of war, the better."

She then adds, conspiratorially:

"Tomorrow, I go to the Pact Alliance turn in, then the Covenant turn in. They all get good gear, and a few more lives get saved because I rig my armor and weapons to negate eachother out, causing minimal damage, if any."

"That's sneaky," you say. "I didn't even notice you DOING that when you made them!"

"It's all in the trait stones," your friend tells you. "Rather... the mimic stones. I enchanted those a loooong time ago. Still burning through my stockpile of the first batch. Going to probably need to make a second... eh... maybe in a few months."  
  
"Good grief," you say. "And what if you come up against your own armor or gear in battle?"

"Enchanted to become weak against me specifically. If they're trying to kill me, well, chances are there's a good reason for me to be killing them."

You're reminded of that ominous blade in flash backed memory once more...

"What... exactly is it you do again, besides being a part-time Psijic war hero crafting bogus armor that is weak to you specifically?" you ask.

"Oh, a bit of thieving, a bit of heroic murdering, some not so heroic murdering..." A pause. "I seem to adopt a lot of small creatures that I come across needing good homes. Not to mention large ride-able creatures too. Oh! And I like house decoration and design."

"You're crazy, and maybe I'm crazy too, because that sounds like fun," you say. "Teach me your ways, O Great Psijic Hero!"

You say it mostly as a joke, but... there's a small part of you that wants all of this. The power, the skill, the fame of being a world saver...

The hands with the thumbs that can actually cast complex spells with much finer precision than your four paws and tail.

Oh, to have been born under a slightly different moon phase!

You wonder if some version of you out there ever made it like that?

Ah, somewhere along Alkosh's scales, surely, that's possible...

"I can try, though I can't promise I'm that great of a teacher, really," your friend says, mostly serious. "If you really want me to teach you some spells, I can certainly try."

Well, you DID ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I played through the good ending of that quest on another character, and that prompted more of this. 
> 
> IDK if i'll write more or not. Don't really plan on expanding this more, but I like Sereyne. Might write something else for her later on.
> 
> Gosh, I hope she shows up more in the future. Heck, I want to see more Alfiq in ESO period! Plus all the other Khajiit varieties!

**Author's Note:**

> So. Uh. Yeah. New Favorite Character much?
> 
> ZOS? Can I please take Sereyne home so she can have a place to crash and maybe get a grip on life that isn't drinking herself asleep every day?


End file.
